Adrian's Journal: 1
Again, fuck this place. Finally we found a moment of rest only for one of our companions to get his soul sucked into a flesh creature as described by Ronin and another to lose all his physical belongings. I'm not sure what the other two did to Kai and myself... however.. The gypsy camp was a much needed respite. Focusing on simple pleasures seems almost alien now, like watching a past self dance and be merry. The hearty breakfast prepared by our Vistani hosts helped quell a throbbing head ache from some questionable opium. At least the pounding in my head quieted down Sigmund's usual complaints about not getting enough food. I always knew how to convince Mother Lisa to give me an extra cookie or two. However, his voracious appetite did help on the climb. Moger, Kai and I probably were still drained from our ordeals in the previous days since the climb was difficult. Or maybe just spent more time on bolt crafting, literature and deduction or Lathander knows what Moger does in his free time involving livestock. Sigmund and Ismark helped and with a rope we ascended. Ronin showed unusual grace in the climb, he seems lithe and dainty but continues to surprise. The rest of the climb was mere drudgery, mist and a dark sky making it even more bleak. However, I did have a conversation with Ireena. Ronin did remark that she didn't look much like her brother. He questions a lot, I tend to not conclude without the proper information. But, he was right. I pushed her for information, maybe with a little insensitivity on her first bite and familial resemblance. Apparently, there were no pictures of her mother in the house while growing up. We managed to gather later with comments from Ismark the following: -Ismark and Ireena are not blood relatives. -His father mentioned this to Ismark on his death bed, he withheld the exact words. -She was found in the woods as a babe. -Strahd rarely shows such interest in just ordinary women (He was mostly just a folktale to scare children, stayed in his castle) Our key out of this prison is Strahd, learning why he is so interested in our charge is vital information. When Father Gabriel had me interrogate criminals for the order, we had to first learn what motivates them. Then use that to break them. Back to the day... we reached a bridge. A stone bridge, structurally sound and flanked by two dark but beautifully crafted gargoyles. The view from above was breath taking, a rare moment of beauty of a waterfall below and gentle mists in this dimly lit place. A beauty broken only by our timid hesitation, paranoia, and Sigmund's complaints. Again, this place teases you with the promise of relief only for you to notice the soothing rain is Devil's piss. The gates, the boundary of Strahd's realm while he was alive within reach only for horse hoofs in the distance. We hid. A carriage, no driver, magnificently crafted, black and surrounded by an eerie mist. An invitation, a familiar script with a long graceful I like a swan's neck. The same as the letter the Order received. He brought us here, he wants us here for some reason, he was inviting us in. Ronin tantalized the foolish notion of accepting. That day, maybe the Devil was whispering in his ear. Probably by that time the scent of death and deception tainted him. Who knows what drove him to... well.. that happened later. We declined, most agreed. Moger and his laissez-faire attitude probably would have went in as well. Maybe to finally face him, to just go there and be done with it all is what tempts us. Even in death. The exit was so close until we were confronted by the howls we heard as soon as we step foot in this cursed place. Wolves. Wolf men, werewolves and gigantic dire wolfs. Fucking huge. As large as Aunt Gertrud's prize hog if not larger. We were the hogs though, their dinner. The first two came from the north, I spotted them in the foilage. So proud of my keen eye was I before they nearly gouged it out. Once again Sigmund's healing words brought me back... By then it was chaos. Bolts of magic from the meagerly clothed Moger, Ronin dancing between fur, Kai retreating covered in blood. I pulled back to some trees and looked at my wounds, then saw Sigmund face to face with a Werewolf. I couldn't leave him. Remembering Ismark's words and old stories I loaded a silver bullet in my revolver, that I now named Lisa after Mother. The bullet pierced, it howled. A smile broke across my face as Sigmund deflected a blow. A crossbow pierced its shoulder. Ismark cut into a wolf with grace and things were going well. I smiled, then... Ronin was surrounded by three wolves. His elven arts were strange, humming as he dodged blow after blow, I think I saw him smiling. He stepped back, then the Devil whispered. With bravado he stepped forward, curious, challenging almost taunting them. Then this place showed us again. Teeth. Blood and angry eyes. They ripped at his throat. He was dead. I don't remember the rest, my lips tasted blood and the strange powder this device emits. Ears ringing as we carried his broken body. To Vallaki... Maybe another safe haven where we can gather information. Meet up with whatever Dukus is now and find a way to bring us all together. We need to be stronger. Or we'll all end up hanging from those gallows. Category:Journal